


Besting Mona Lisa

by 7cinnamonroses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Creepy Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Masturbation, POV First Person, Possessive Loki, Unwittnessed Affection, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7cinnamonroses/pseuds/7cinnamonroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lokicentric. Loki found a way to ease his mind. Good for him! But while he seems rather happy with snuggling up to the reader, the poor thing has no idea where these creepy –but not altogether unpleasant– caresses come from. (Continued because my muse willed it so!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Atom](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/49985) by MissA!. 



She was relaxing again. Her mind was easing away from the troubles of her daily life as she rested on the tiny couch.

He could feel it.

Every single time her thoughts lost their aggravating weight and created some open space, the air around her was becoming alive. She was unaware of it. But to him it was like the ringing of silver bells. It was alluring, comforting and so indescribably cordial!

Which was why he was here.

Even though he knew he had no business here.

Nevertheless, Loki, the current undercover-King of Asgard stood in this room that was beneath the standards he was accustomed to in every imaginable way. The ceiling was a bit too low for his liking, the whole room far too small and the furniture lacked a certain refinement. It wasn’t without taste by any means. He could see that some thought and taste had been included when it had come to the simple interior. He knew that the colours were pleasant and matched rather well. The rug on the floor he had found to be extremely soft and he had more than once noted the soft bed and the sheets that seemed to be of a high quality.

Currently, his thoughts did not linger on the state of the room.

It was clouded by a pleasant and rather airy semi-darkness though and he felt at ease. Thanks to her.

He had come across her by accident really.

But that wasn’t important.

He quickly realized that she had left the window slightly open and a soft wind was moving the curtains in a gentle way.

And there she was, curled on her sofa, her head comfortably resting on a small cushion, while she was listening to some music. He could hear it blazing from her head-phones and he was becoming indignant for the briefest moment. She ought to know better. The unpleasant feeling had not even grabbed him whole when she moved and reduced the volume by pushing a certain area of the small apparatus that was resting on her lap.

 _Good girl.,_ he thought not without an unsettling amount of affection. Loki knew he was far too attached and blamed it on the long time he had spent without an appropriate companion. He had had his rather short-lived fun in the past few months after he had been… handed the throne. Just never in his own form, nor in a way that would have served to flatter his vanity. He had always been someone who enjoyed the chase and would rather set his sights on a woman who was not naked and on her back before he could blink twice.

No! There was no challenge in that.

This here however…

His fingers curled loosely into a half-fist only to uncurl again as he stepped towards her to crouch beside her resting place.

Her eyes were closed and a small smile played with the corners of her delicate and elegantly shaped lips. The air around her was warm and soothing and he could almost taste her contentedness on his tongue. Her thoughts were running, the music were indeed encouraging them to run freely. But the utter freedom and wild turns her mind was experiencing were of another kind as the heavy thoughts about her obligations, sorrows and the intimidating concept that was the future. Right now she was with the sounds, which were emitted by those round cushions that were pressed against both of her ears. Her face did not even look this relaxed when she was asleep.

He knew for a fact that she was not as content when wrapped into sleep’s heavy warmth. There was this one difference. Just one. And it was a fundamental condition for his own repose. Absentmindedly he moved his hand towards her stomach where her small hand was resting. It rose slightly with every breath she took and his smile grew, like a plant that suddenly received sunlight and enough irrigation. Turning his hand so that his palm was facing upwards, the back of his fingers slowly and carefully moved towards the back of her hand. He could feel her warmth. Anticipated the softness of the skin he was about to come in contact with…

…when his fingers drifted right through her hand.

He frowned and his gaze travelled up to her face.

“Not quite there yet, are you dear?” he asked and did not even bother to keep his voice down. They were not on the same… layer. She had yet to arrive. To let go of the day. Of her life. Why was it so hard to let go for some people?

The hand he had just failed to touch was rubbed by her other hand and he watched her fingers with envy. So she had felt something. Even this was not new to him. Upon their second ‘encounter’ –if one could call it such– he had nearly fallen to the floor if he had not caught his balance in the last moment. That day he had longed for her. Yes: Actually longed! Her soft, warm skin, the feeling of a willing, though unaware body against his own. Which had been the reason he had rushed towards her to embrace her, when he only grabbed thin air. His arms had encircled nothing and neither had they had anything to hold back the momentum of his outburst. The God of Mischief certainly did not appreciate the irony of nearly falling that was reminding him of his own favourite trick. The glare he had felt his facial muscles will his visage into was drained by her confused expression. She had touched her shoulder gently, as if to search for something.

“Weird…” she had muttered and had grabbed a book from the stash on the small tables, curling into a relaxed position on her couch before placing the head-phones on her head again. Shortly after she had placed the book on the table and the most relaxed sigh had escaped her. And he had tried again.

The back of his forefinger had been rewarded with the warm silky skin of her cheek. Then the rest of his fingers and finally his palm had started to caress the side of her face. Another sigh and then a smile.

A smile could be more rewarding than to claim the body of a woman who finally succumbed. A smile could mean defeat. Shame. Love.

But in this case it meant true intimacy and peace. And peace was something his mind could not remember. Peace and satisfaction had nothing to do with him. With her, in her tranquil presence though, he was able to grasp the concept. He savoured it and enjoyed the warm feeling of content fullness run through his veins, allowed it to caress the tense muscles of his back. It were these moments when he felt like a child again. All due to her unknowing smile. He had heard of a painting that was known far and wide on Midgard. It was said to show a woman who had the most mysterious smile. He had not bothered to look at it yet. But he’d wager the throne of Asgard that it had nothing on her smile. A smile that could bring order to the chaos he stood for.

But that smile had yet to be smiled and all he felt was impatient anticipation. If only he could do something, but in this case his hands were bound… or rather: they were unable to do anything. All he could do was wait and watch.

And watching in itself was wonderful, though he could not help but attempt to touch her shoulder. Again, his hand did not make contact with anything solid but it began to feel tempting warmth. Without thinking, he caressed the outline of her shoulder as if it were a warming fire, when her hand came up. Her fingertips brushed through his before grasping her own shoulder as if she had thought to catch something on it. Her glorious eyes opened and he smiled down at her. She saw right through him, but his smile did not falter.

By now, he did not remember if he had thought her beautiful at first. She was though. Maybe she had some magic in that smile of hers. It was a rare thing, but not entirely unheard of. All those tales about men going into battle only to guard a woman’s smile from the enemies ungentle touch? There was more truth in that than some thought. He’d have to know. He himself had disregarded them as utter nonsense.

Until the day he had seen Thor declining his claim to the throne.

Until he had witnessed The Soldier guarding the small, wrinkled smile of a woman who kept forgetting him.

Until he had fallen asleep next to this woman, who was now here with him, after seeing that soft smile of hers.

Loki wanted that smile!

It put him to rest.

It eased his heart.

He heard brief silence before another sound came from the device on her head. She blinked.

“I’m going insane…” she mumbled, hand still on her shoulder. He leaned his upper body over her, so she would have felt his breath in her face. If she had been able to feel him at all, that is.

“No, dear. You’re the one sane person I am aware of…”

Minus her quirk to mumble to herself of course. But a dazzling smile conquered his features as she started to giggle softly. He loved that sound. It was all lightness and disregard of trouble.

“Talking to myself only confirms that deduction.” she tells herself, her tone slightly lower to mimic a Midgardian actor and he chuckles.

“You ought to see that old man Njörðr. I think at some point he became so convinced of his own intelligence that he only speaks to himself since others are not worth his time.” he cooed and caressed the tip of her nose with his own. Her nose seemed a bit cold and indeed, the room was starting to cool down and by now it was basked into darkness. It was getting late. He had forgotten about time again.

It didn’t matter.

He had time enough for them both.

Her long finger scratched her nose and he watched her, the smile still playing on his lips.

“Let’s go to bed, dear…” he breathed and beamed as she sighed and got up, leaving the room for the facilities where she could wash up. Sometimes she would change there too. Loki never followed her. He heard her put the device and the head-phones on the bed before turning on the lights. The demigod blinked twice, his eyes slightly hurting from the sudden light.

7 minutes later she walked back into her small bedroom and he smiled from his position on the couch. There had still been some of her warmth left and after he had hidden her phone he had enjoyed the lingering combination of her warmth and fragrance. Of course she started looking for that blasted device called ‘phone’. She had received some messages the last time he had been here and at some point when she had nearly been at rest, when he had already seen that rewarding smile form on her sweet lips, it had possessed the audacity to start moving with very weird sounds. He had not been happy.

But to his reconciliation: Neither had she been!

As it had turned out someone had called her. Someone called… Bill. Bill! Was that even a name? Apparently Bill’s call had been unwelcome, for she quickly told him that she had already been asleep –a downright lie! He had never felt more proud!– and had huffed after throwing the damn thing onto a cushion.

Before she had returned today Loki had checked her phone. Nothing he took a lot of pride in, but it was not like people would expect anything less from him. Of course he was not enjoying this kind of invasion of her privacy. But: Bill did not seem to get the hint! 3 new messages, all from earlier today, all unanswered. She was obviously not interested in poor Billy.

He grinned sardonically and decided to do something about him as soon as his time would allow it.

She gave up the search for her phone (He had placed it in the drawer where her towels were so that they would not be disturbed by any sudden sounds) and turned towards her bed and grabbed a short, grey nightgown from under the sheets. It was in no way made of rich material, nor was the design mirroring her personal beauty. But he loved it when she wore it in bed. The material was thin enough to allow the heat of her body to embrace him.

With a swift motion he rose from the couch and stood right behind her as she pulled her shirt over her head and placed it over the back of the chair. He gazed at the inviting skin of her back, the curves of her upper-body. There was no way she could feel or hear him now, but he held his breath without realizing it as his right hand ghosted only inches over her back. It was these moments when he felt guilty. She had no idea he was here, watching her while undressing. He just could not help it. And while he was not rogue enough to follow her in case she changed in another room, he was absolutely not gentleman enough to look away while she stood before him in all her beauty. It was not like he could harm her either way, so his conscience was always silenced quite quickly.

His eyes watched longingly as she slipped out of the rest of her clothing, placed the short trousers on the chair, while the rest was tossed into a half-empty basket.

There she stood. In all the perfection only higher beings than them could come up with. He did not blink while his eyes roamed and adored every single curve before she covered herself with the grey fabric of her nightgown. Loki sighed. It would not be long now and he’d get his smile and all the warmth and softness.

Still…

He stepped towards her as she combed her hair in front of the mirror, which stood in one of the corners. Standing right behind her, he placed his hand in the soft hollow of her waist, right above her hips. She jerked around, forgetting that she would have seen anyone in the mirror. Her brow formed the most endearing frown. It made him forget to feel bad for startling her.

“Nerves… Calm down…. You’re tired!” she told herself, both hands coming up to rub her face. He watched her as she walked past him to lay down. While she was searching for a song on her MP… something, he walked into the hall and pushed a book from its place on the shelf. From the other room he heard covers being thrown back and naked feet hitting the ground. It was his turn to walk past her as he re-entered her room while she ran out to see what had caused that sound.

Loki quickly kicked off his boots and slipped out of his coat and tunic. The soft pants could stay and he mentally thanked himself for foregoing his usual leather pants. He got onto the bed and covered himself with a part of the blankets. She would not see the sunk in area on her mattress like that, though she’d probably dismiss it as a sign to buy a new one soon. He had barely settled in when she came into view again and turned off the light again. All he could see now was the outline of her shape and he nearly sighed when she slipped into bed next to him. A content sound escaped her though and Loki smiled to himself as she did not put on the head-phones. Instead she placed them next to her cushion and activated the song she had been looking for earlier. The first tunes had barely reached his ears when he felt the atmosphere change around him. It was getting warmer and he quickly leaned over her. His eyes were by now accustomed to the dark and so he could see it.

The peaceful rise and fall of her chest, the closed eyes and relaxed features. The muscles of her body were easing out of the last remaining confining thoughts and then…

“Norns…” he breathed as his lips met the solid but soft warmth of the corner of her lips. He could hear her take a deep breath as she turned to her side. Loki didn’t mind.

“Smile…” he mumbled, pressing his body against her back, kissing her shoulders and her neck. She did not feel all of it. Not yet. But he felt her pressing up against him, as if searching for the comfort he knew she felt. One of his hands was placed on the shoulder she was laying on, gently massaging the muscles of the back of her neck with his thumb, while his second arm was draped over her body, his fingers tracing her soft, naked thigh. Her hair smelled wonderful and he briefly buried his face in her silky strands. He felt her muscles relax and it had been the moment he had craved.

Almost there.

Again, he shifted, worried he might miss it in this position. Warmth and soft skin and sweet fragrance were invading his senses. But it would not be enough without the smile. “Smile for me, dear!” he whispered huskily as he nuzzled her temple and softly kissed her cheek.

A sigh.

Another movement that only brought her closer to him and finally: His price.

Her smile.

That calm, soft, sated and peaceful smile. It was like… No! His mind had fought that battle before. With all his clever words he had not been able to describe it. It wasn’t a smile like sunshine. It did not blind anyone who saw it. It wasn’t tame or sweet or dazzling. It just… was!

All weight left his body and his mind. Everything that existed, everything that mattered was this smile. It was glorious. And for one moment he forgot about everything.

Odin.

Laufey.

Thor.

New York.

The Other.

Even mother.

For the instance of a smile only two things were important:

He was here. She was here. And it was as simple as that.

He folded her into his arms, feeling her utter warmth against his skin as she unwittingly held one of his hands close to her mouth and touched his fingers with her lips. It was one of these moments he knew that she could feel him. Not the way he felt her of course or she would have been scared. Maybe it was like feeling him through a thin piece of fabric that was wrapped around her.

Another sigh was surrendered to the silence of the room.

Not hers this time.

With his last coherent thought before drifting off to sleep he realized that his caress had made her smile. And there was nothing that had sated his male ego like this in centuries.

“Thank you, sweetling…” he mumbled and kissed the back of her head as she moved her face into his open hand as if craving for more contact. “Good night…”

He’d wake up tomorrow and she’d be lost to his touch once again. It was always the case. Her dreams were not easy enough to keep her in this relaxed, approachable or rather touchable state.

He’d have to see about that, too!

 

It had been that night when he had decided to finally go and see that famous drawing. Traveling was no problem, neither were the pitiful attempts of security. The marble floor was polished. The rooms were empty. The Louvre –as they called it– was already closed to the public, but since Loki had never regarded himself as part of the public, he enjoyed some finer aspects about Midgardian culture. Some of the works did look rather well, though other things were just downright silly.

He made his way into another room. The one he had been looking for. There had been actual signs pointing him into the right direction. And all for this.

He silently approached and looked at the woman in black. And truth be told: Her smile was beautiful. Kind and warm. It reminded him of his mother, though this one lacked Frigga’s playfulness in his opinion.

And: He would not have lost the throne!

The smile of this “Mona Lisa” was nothing compared to hers.

It was painted well and it was a pretty smile, make no mistake. But it wasn’t hers.

 

When he returned to her side that night, she was already tucked in. The room was dark and silent. Something about the way she breathed told him that she had not calmed down by now and he was overjoyed. He hurriedly undressed and went towards the bed where she was tossing and turning.

His lips formed a soft ‘O’ as he settled in next to her. A hand reached for her face and she froze in her movements. His long fingers gently brushed some of her hair from her face when he finally realized something, his digits still buried in her soft hair.

She was not relaxed.

Yet, he could touch her.

His thumb caressed the shell of her ear.

She did not move.

Neither did he.

Not even a single muscle of his body moved.

Could she… feel him?

Loki was about to withdraw his hand when a content sigh was heard and she turned towards him and there it was again.

That smile that would have driven even the finest artist crazy.

And it was all his.


	2. Seducing Io

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place several weeks after Besting Mona Lisa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if I ought to continue the next chapter from Loki's POV or keep up with the POV of the Reader. Any suggestions are welcome!  
> The chapter title is based on the painting Zeus Seducing Io.

It was one of those calm weekends. No parties, no cocktails, no pub crawls. Just me, a glass of white wine and a good movie. While it was fun to go out and enjoy the uncommitted years of my youth, there just had to be days like this too. Allowing myself to enjoy some peace and quiet had become a rare treat lately.

But not tonight! Tonight, I had fought off an invitation to dinner from the guy who works at the same company as me. To be with myself for a change.

I find that relaxing, revitalizing even. It is far easier to sort out my thoughts and assess my current situation in life. Seriously, that was hard to do when you had 3 giggling girls and the obligatory gay best friend around!

Yes, it is far easier to judge my life when I’m alone.

And there were some things I had to give some thought!  
The touches I had felt those last couple of months for example. At first I had blamed them on exhaustion, which had made perfect sense to me. I had started a new job and tended to stressing myself out about new responsibilities, wanting to be perfect no matter what. Having done pretty damn well in my last company, it would’ve been devastating to me to suddenly fail at what I really loved doing.

After some time, the gentle nudges against my shoulder and the prickling of my skin as if fingertips were caressing me became a clue for me to give myself a break. They were my cue to call it a day and finally go to bed. They became normal! I even began to enjoy them to some extend, though I hated to admit that to myself. For all my unease, something about them had kept me warm during a cruel and cold spring. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling snug and warm all over, but not the warmth you get from blankets. It was almost as if…

It is too crazy to say it.

At first I didn’t have them every night, mind you. Maybe twice in three weeks. Easily blamed on sleep deprivation or too tense muscles really. Recently though, I had grown confident in my professional life again, having found my routine and finally became familiar with the ins and outs. I had appointments for massages once a week –my buddy Jerome had dragged me there. There was no reason for tense muscles anymore.

Those touches though didn’t disappear. In fact they happened to become more frequent and it began to unsettle me.

So it happened, that after having finished my dinner and the movie, I began a Google-search without really knowing what I was looking for. At first I searched ‘ghost touch’ and only received advices for some smartphone problem. The engine suggested ‘ghost touches me’ and I giggled. Nope, ghosts were nothing I really believed in and my apartment-building was not located on some ancient graveyard or had been a former mental asylum. Not that I would’ve been worried about a ghost if it had… maybe. Yeah okay, I probably would’ve been freaked out!

I tried ‘phantom touch’ and still, only problems for a smartphone and iPad issues. A few weird attempts to find what I was looking for later, I leaned back and sighed. Nothing.

Getting up, I made my way into the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. Maybe the hot water would bring one of those epiphanies that I sometimes experienced while washing everything else away.

Nobody was there with me at night!

In no night.

It had been like this for a rather long time now. Maybe that was the problem. I had been alone for over a year now and while I had a few dates, nothing had become of any of them. Had it been too long? Being held against someone’s chest again would be nice to be honest.

I had had a rather hard time to adjust and was quick to doubt my own abilities. Deep down I had known that I could succeed of course, but it would’ve been beautiful to have someone who’d listen to my rambling before embracing and holding me against them. Telling me that it would be okay in the end and that the only person who was in doubt about that was myself.   
Had some corner of my brain tried to balance my constant inner nagging, thus causing my body to jump into something like a comfort mode?!

Was that even a thing?!

When I got back into the kitchen only wearing nightgown without sleeve that barely reached my knees, I decided on some hot chocolate for my nerves. My thoughts didn’t sound too weird to me. It had been so long since I trusted someone enough to even hold me in anything that wasn’t a friendly 2 Mississippi-hug. Was my subconscious trying to tell me that I was lonely despite making the best out of being single?! I felt so small and ridiculous out of a sudden and my eyes were threatening to leak as I filled my favourite cup with milk and cocoa.

How ridiculous of me. Couldn’t even handle being on my own anymore…

It was then that the air started to shift. Followed by this vague feeling of being held from behind. Some weight was lifted off me and –surprised– I had to lean onto the counter for support. My cheek and the skin over my cheekbones began to prickle. Supposing that it must be a strand of hair, I reached up to brush it away, only to find my hair all in place.

A soft, short-lived pressure against the back of my head and an imaginary brush over my stomach had me close my eyes in resignation.

I had thought about how much I missed physical contact and now my over-imaginative brain had come up with some figment. Yes that had to be it!

Quickly moving down the counter I placed the mug in the microwave and put away the milk and the cocoa while it heated up. Once or twice I believed to feel a pleasant weight on my waist, but decided not to pay attention to it. While I didn’t blame myself for craving someone to hold me, I was not about to allow my imagination to play creepy tricks on me.

Having cleaned up the kitchen and putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, I waited for my drink to finish. Nervously, I kept brushing my hair back behind my ears, though it was already tucked back nicely. There must’ve been one loose tiny hair though, for my skin kept being tickled.

I stood still for a moment, hands resting on the counter. It was finally beginning to become warmer outside and I could hear the birds sing outside of my kitchen-window. All was well.

Closing my eyes I took one deep breath, relaxing my shoulders.

Enough with this nonsense.

And then, as if my body was begging to differ, I felt a slight brush against my right hand, warmth engulfing it. The caress –or pressure– began on my middle-finger and slowly travelled up. It left the most tender feeling and goose bumps in its wake. There was something different about it this time. When it reached my arm, I slightly moved my arm away, laughing to myself. It tickled.

The brush stopped.

Something moved my hair. The wind?

Again I remained still, looking over my shoulder awkwardly. Now it felt as if something was pressed against my back and once more, something brushed against my stomach. I felt so warm out of a sudden and closed my eyes, revelling in the trick my mind was playing on me.

Was this the first sign of insanity?, I wondered as I felt strands of my hair being moved. Was I moving or shaking? No, I was stand quite still. It felt like something was gliding along my shoulders and neck, just where the nightgown ended. My shoulders came up and I took a deep breath. This part of my back was so sensitive to the touch, always had been. I felt my heart beat faster by the second.

A content sigh left me when my hair –it had to be my hair– swept along the skin of my neck. So soft…

My ear. It felt like someone was…

The loud BING of the microwave had me squeal and jump slightly. I could’ve sworn I heard a soft ‘Shhhh’ next to me and whirled around. No one there.

What had I just done anyway?

Frustrated with myself a buried my face in my hands, fingers massaging my scalp. Had I honestly just sighed and allowed my pulse to quicken because of figments of my imaginations? Well, I did do that while masturbating, point taken. But I relied on touching myself then. Those weird caresses I couldn’t explain to myself really shouldn’t have this effect, should they?

Maybe I ought to speak to a doctor… Goodness, what if they’d think me insane? Lock me away in some tiny room on a diet of pills that made me see things?

I knew those touches weren’t really there. Something –a hair! A damned hair! Please, it had to be hair!– flicked against my earlobe and I… No! No!

I swore I felt something brush over my pubic hair, before traveling deeper. Whatever it was, it felt like it gently spread my lower lips, nudging, circling my clit oh so very gently. This time I stumbled several metres away from the counter, heart hammering against my ribcage.

This was it! Pills or not, I’d speak with a doctor.

Forgetting all about my drink, I stalked into my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against the wood. My arms embraced my upper body, clutching my own shoulders.

Why was I being like this?

It had never happened before, not in all the years between boyfriends. There had been no cases of insanity or any of this in the family. Once I had –very, very delicately– brought the topic up to my mother. She had expressed that she understood how unsettling these kinds of touches must be to me, but she also thought them to be the result of stress. But this was going too far.

Had I not listened to my body enough?

I sat down on my bed and slowed my excited breathing.

I felt a slight tug from the inside, my sex feeling warm and a bit swollen. Suddenly I laughed, relieved. That was it! I was aroused. Simply aroused! God, had I taken so little care of myself these past few months?

What a ridiculous thing! Nothing I’d ever tell anyone about. Ever. If some guy sucked at making me get off it was sad enough. But romancing myself had never been an issue.

Certainly my body had begun to react differently over the years, too. The lack of attention to my needs had obviously caused a different approach. To get me in the mood, maybe. Couldn’t Google have told me that?

You need an orgasm, sister!, was nothing the comment sections of every other site shied away from suggesting, so why didn’t I find anything? Ah well, to be fair, my search had not been too eloquently worded.

Chuckling at my own stupidity –and inadequacy to tell what my body wanted from me– I slipped out of my nightgown, throwing it over a chair. While re-arranging my cushions so I’d be comfortable during the apparently very needed self-care, I felt my breasts tighten and my body heated up in anticipation.

Wasn’t I the idiot…?, I thought smiling while laying back.

**Author's Note:**

> My muse kept bothering me with this story so I finally wrote it down. I had the idea some weeks ago while listening to some music myself.  
> However: Some time ago I read a story called 'Atom', written by MissA! on tumblr and I think this story was kind of inspired by the prologue (though it is still very different). If you know the story you'll know what I mean, if not (and you enjoy the occasional AU!Tom fiction) go read it.  
> I hope you guys enjoyed this one shot.


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